Thursday, April 15, 2010




Blue jean baby,
L.A. lady,
seamstress for the band.

Pretty eyed,
pirate smile,
you'll marry a music man.

Ballerina,
you must have seen her
dancing in the sand.

And now she's in me,
always with me,
tiny dancer in my hand.

Jesus freaks out in the street,
Handing tickets out for God.

Turning back, she just laughs.
The boulevard is not that bad.

Piano man,
he makes his stand
In the auditorium.

Looking on,
she sings her songs.
The words she knows,
the tune she hums.

But oh, how it feels so real
Lying here with no one near,
Only you and you can hear me
When I say softly, slowly:

Hold me closer,
tiny dancer.
Count the headlights
on the highway.

Lay me down in
sheets of linen
you had a busy
day today.

Blue jean baby,
L.A. lady,
seamstress for the band.

Pretty eyed,
pirate smile,
you'll marry a music man.

Ballerina,
you must have seen her
dancing in the sand.

And now she's in me,
always with me,
tiny dancer in my hand.

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